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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086743">Cliff x Rick Shorts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/baezechirrut/pseuds/baezechirrut'>baezechirrut</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friends to Lovers, M/M, quick reads, substance use is mentioned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:01:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/baezechirrut/pseuds/baezechirrut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of short stories about Cliff and Rick that I’ve written over the past couple weeks. The stories don’t necessarily connect; most are stand alones.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Rick Finds Feelings for Cliff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>Rick was in a dilemma. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His young Italian wife had left him for her home country with a stack of divorce papers on the kitchen counter, and he didn’t even think to chase after her. He didn’t even care to ask for a reason. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>All he knew was that this was probably best. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She was young, beautiful, and had so much more ahead of her. She deserved more than someone who had, by pure accident, found someone else. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sorry I’m late, buddy,” he called, jogging towards the car. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff waved the butt of a cigarette at him as he got closer. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Could’ve used a little break anyways.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick pretended he didn’t notice the multiple fresh cigarette butts that were accumulated around his stunt double. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It hurt him, in a strange way. It reminded him of being a child, feeling so guilty that he had to leave his beloved pet dog at home while he had to go to school. He hated leaving the dog waiting for his return. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was like that with Cliff but more. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He only really figured this out about himself after he went to go see Cliff at the hospital. He felt so guilty that Cliff had gotten stabbed because he decided to drunkenly yell at a bunch of goddamn hippies that he reinstated their working relationship. Cliff would return as his right hand man for a bit of a pay cut that never actually came. The news spread fast about the attempted attack on Rick Dalton, and the offers came pouring in. The spaghetti westerns started making their way to the US as well, bringing in more casting calls and requests for guest roles on TV shows. Rick was busier than ever now, and the same went for Cliff. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Maybe it was because they were spending more time together, but Rick started to notice how happy being with Cliff made him, how he comforted him when he was having his moments, and how much he needed him at his side. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He was in love with his best friend. There was no doubt about it. The only thing holding him back was whether his friend shared such sentiment. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>If there was anything Rick knew about himself though, was that he was a coward. He wasn’t ready to lose Cliff like he almost let him go again. His hospital trip made that clear. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>If Cliff found out, he’d probably be disgusted. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>So for the time being, he pretended like everything was the same as usual. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But somehow, that hurt even more. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. First Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>Rick was in the midst of having one of his meltdowns, and Cliff was a convenient shoulder to cry on. This had been routine for years. But this time, right as Cliff hugged him in encouragement, their eyes met. Tear rimmed blue eyes stared back, and instead of offering him his sunglasses, Cliff started to lean his face towards Rick to kiss him. He didn’t know what came over him all of a sudden, but he hoped it was the right thing to do as Rick closed his eyes and met him in the middle. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff let his hands slide up from Rick’s back to cup the sides of his face as he brushed the tears from the crease of his eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Each felt the other’s heart beating faster than usual. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>When their lips finally parted, they stared at each other, waiting for someone to cut the silence. It felt like forever until Cliff finally opened his mouth. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“...I think I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said. “Sorry if I made you think you had to do that, partner.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No,” Rick interjected as he shook his head. “No, I-I think I wanted that too.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, calling Rick on to set. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“T-this is my last scene. We can go home after that.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff just nodded as he let go of Rick. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick put his costume back on as he opened the door to the trailer when Cliff called his name. He looked over to see him with his sunglasses on, a wry smile upon his lips. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’ll be fine. You’re Rick Fuckin’ Dalton.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick smiled in return as he headed towards the set, fingers brushing over his lips where Cliff’s were just moments ago.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. His Eyes Were Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>“Where’re ya goin’?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Got shit to do.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s Thursday night!”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff headed home in a hurry. He didn’t want to miss any part of his show. He didn’t say that to the guys at work; they didn’t need to know that he wasn’t going out to the bars because he wanted to catch a cowboy show. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“-nty Law!”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff caught the show just as it started. It was only the third episode, but Cliff was hooked. He liked westerns, action, gunfights, and all that, but what made him tune in two weeks ago was the ad he saw with the lead actor tipping his hat, calling viewers to tune in to NBC on Thursday night. Cliff had seen him in minor roles on other programs and movies before, and he always caught his eye. Frankly, he was handsome, and right up Cliff’s alley. But, as he watched Bounty Law, he realized that looks weren’t all Rick Dalton had. He had some acting chops on him as well. It was enough to keep Cliff watching for a whole season. He even got his hands on a few collectibles. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was pure luck that Cliff ended up on the set of Bounty Law, and even more that he was brought in to replace Rick’s stunt double. He didn’t show it, but he was ecstatic. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff wiped his clammy hands on the side of his jeans as the young PA led him to Rick’s trailer.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The AP knocked on the door, and the voice he’d been hearing through the TV for the past two years answered back.  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Who’s this?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m Cliff Booth, your stunt double. Just wanted to say hi.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh,” Rick said, hand outstretched to shake. “Right. Hey.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It felt almost wrong that he was touching Jake Cahill, no Rick Dalton in the flesh. It took him a moment to look him in the eyes. But when he did, Cliff couldn’t help but smile. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’d been watching Jake Cahill for so long on his TV set that he had to pause to remember he would be in color in real life. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His eyes are blue, Cliff thought. His skin is pale, his hair is brown, and his eyes were fucking blue. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He didn’t know exactly why, but that was perfect.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. It’s Cold Outside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>“I told you you needed a jacket.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Shut up,” Rick complained. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>They were sat in a coffee shop after Rick had told Cliff in passing that he was feeling a bit chilly. They ordered some coffee, Rick’s with cream and Cliff’s with just sugar. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Take my jacket then,” Cliff said as he took his denim jacket off. “I’ll be fine.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Before Rick could say otherwise, the jacket was already pressed into his hands. He didn’t even give him a chance to argue before he stood up. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m gonna take a piss before we leave. Be right back.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah sure.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The jacket was still a bit warm from Cliff’s body heat as he put his arm through the sleeve. He picked out a cigarette from the box he’d placed on the table and went to light it, but his lighter seemed to be out of juice. He sighed in minute frustration before wondering if Cliff kept any in his jacket pockets.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He found the lighter, amongst other things. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Shoving his hands into the side pockets, all Rick got was some lint and a case of Red Apples, which Cliff inexplicably still smoked since Rick gave him all of his from his commercial brand deal. He unbuttoned the chest pockets to find a tarnished silver lighter, and what felt like a thin plastic packet. Hoping it wasn’t cocaine, Rick pulled it out slowly to immediately shove it back into the pocket hoping nobody saw. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It definitely wasn’t drugs.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But it most definitely was a condom. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Before he could process anything, Cliff returned to the table. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ready to go?” He asked. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick only nodded. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Staring out the window on the passenger’s side, he slowly let him mind spin. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The condom seemed relatively new; at least, it didn’t look like it had been in a pocket for a long time. And if his quick look served his memory correctly, it was pretty damn big. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That thought made Rick blush. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sure they were a thing now, but they’d been tiptoeing around the idea of actually taking the next step. Was this a sign that Cliff wanted that? Or was he fucking somebody else behind his back? Either way, the car ride home was a bit quiet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“-ick. Rick?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff calling his name snapped him out of his thoughts. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey, boss, we’re home.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“R-right.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He nearly misses when Cliff throws him his keys back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You gonna need me for anything else?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Nah, I-I got lines to learn for tomorrow anyways.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Right. Then can I have my jacket back?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah,” he started as he began to take the jacket off. Then he paused before sticking his hand back into the chest pocket. “But before I do, you m-mind explaining this?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff laughed awkwardly as he snatched the foil wrapper out of Rick’s hand. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Y-you already cheating on me?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Of course not,” Cliff answered as he shoved the condom into his back pocket. He gave a reassuring smirk before continuing. “It’s just... wishful thinking, I guess.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick looked at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You know what I mean,” he replied with a soft kiss on the cheek. Cliff turned on his heels towards his car before hearing his name called again. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Cliff?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I wrap filming tomorrow,” Rick said, leaning on the doorframe. “Got a whole w-week off. Come over tomorrow. And bring Brandy.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff knew that Rick telling him to bring the dog meant he was offering him to stay the night. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Will do,” he said back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick smiled. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Maybe I’ll let you wishful thoughts pay off, buddy.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick could swear he could see Cliff’s eyes light up and his ears perk up like an excited mutt.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fastest Gun in the West</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>this chapter title is a goddamn joke!!!!!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“F-fuck, Cliff...!”</p><p></p><div>
  <p>Rick squeezes his eyes shut as Cliff grinds his hips against him. It still feels strange having sex with his best friend of almost nine years, but not necessarily in a bad way. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He knew Cliff cared about him, and he’d never hurt him. It was just that he couldn’t get it out of his head that Cliff had been his friend for nine years and Rick never would have thought they’d end up in bed together. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But, if anything, the sex was good. It took some getting used to, but Cliff was patient and kind. The raging erection visible through his jeans while he was fingering him obviously made Rick a bit nervous, but Cliff waited until Rick felt comfortable before they fucked for the first time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Nnh, C-Cliff,” he moaned. “Let me see your face.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick reached up to hold his stuntman’s face in his hands. The rhythm of Cliff’s thrusts slow as Rick pulls him down for a kiss. His hair was still a little damp from the shower they had taken together, where Rick had let him use his shampoo. He liked that they smelled the same, in a weird way. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Cliff,” he called again. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hm?” His eyes glint in the low light of the bedside lamp. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I love you.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff paused. His arm tenses, his breath hitches, and he lets out a soft groan. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ah, shit,” he says. “Fuck.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick looks up at him, a bit surprised, but also with a smirk across his face. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Cliff,” he says, caressing the other man’s ever-reddening face. “Did you just come?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff straightens his back, moving out of reach from Rick, and covers his face. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“God, damn, this is embarrassing.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick laughs as he pulls Cliff’s waist in with his legs. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“C’mere you fucker.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Straining his back, Rick leans upwards to meet Cliff, hands still covering his face. He pries them away, enough for their eyes to meet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What was it? Because this sure ain’t like you.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He gives him a soft kiss on the nose.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff doesn’t answer. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Was it because I said I love you?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick doesn’t miss the quick face Cliff pulls when he hears him say so. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I love you, Cliff. Even if you can’t last longer than 5 minutes,” he said jokingly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Aw, c’mon, partner,” Cliff replied. “You ain’t gotta rub it in.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>With another sly smile directed at Cliff, Rick reaches his hand down to the base of Cliff’s now soft member. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t. But what you gotta do now is say it back.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He squeezes lightly as he whispers the next sentence.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“And you gotta make me come.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff huffed a stifled laugh. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fair enough.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Smells Like Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>Rick gets off of his phone call from Marvin Schwarz to find Cliff gone and the door to the backyard open. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Cliff?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The smell hits him before he sees Cliff. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Is that a joint?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Are we sharing?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Shit, I smoked the whole thing.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick sighs. As of recent, his drug of choice had been homemade margaritas, but a little weed once in a while couldn’t hurt. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s fine. Just air yourself out before you come back in, it fuckin’ reeks.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick padded back in to the living room and lit a cigarette from the case on the coffee table. Just as he finished it, Cliff walked back in through the door, closing it behind him. He walks over to the couch and immediately buries his face into Rick’s neck. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“H-hey!”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick nearly drops the cigarette from his mouth. Careful as to not drop any ash on him or Cliff, he puts it out on the ashtray. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He feels Cliff take a deep breath. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You always smell so good,” Cliff says into his hair. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Jesus, Cliff, w-wait, I-I haven’t taken a shower yet today, and-“</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Mmh, but I like the way you smell now.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff traps Rick between his knees as he climbs onto the couch and buries his nose into various crevices on his body. It’s slow; Cliff seemingly enjoying every minute of it, which is excruciating for Rick. He could feel his ears get hot as Cliff moves to the floor and starts pressing his face into his stomach. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“‘S soft,” he mutters.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick closes his legs as Cliff kept moving further down, but to no avail. The blond man presses his cheek against Rick’s thigh as he mouths at his cock underneath the fabric of the shorts. He then pauses to inhale deeply. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“‘d I ever tell you how good you smell?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick blushes a deep red as he feels himself getting hard. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“C-Cliff, wait,” he stammers. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He takes one more inhale before he pauses, face still resting on Rick’s thigh. It takes a minute to realize that Cliff was starting to snore. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick frustratedly shoves Cliff off of him to get up to deal with his half hard cock in the bathroom. He could sleep on the floor for all he cared.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Calling Brandy over with a whistle, he let her take Cliff’s usual spot on the soft mattress as he closed the door to the bathroom. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Mall Madness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>“Your shirt’s got a hole in it.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick jabbed his finger into the penny-sized hole that had formed on the seam of Cliff’s shirt sleeve. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“So it does. I’ll fix it.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The thought of Cliff owning a sewing kit made Rick smile a bit.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You don’t own too many clothes, do you,” Rick said. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“A couple t-shirts and some jeans is all I need,” Cliff stated matter of factly. “‘s why I moved to California. The weather don’t change too much around here.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What about a suit?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“...haven’t worn one since your wedding.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick recalled the ceremony for his short lived marriage. He didn’t dare say it then, but Cliff looked amazing in the three piece Italian suit that Francesca picked out for him. He was slightly upset there weren’t any pictures of him in it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff continued staring at the TV while Rick still poked at his skin through the hole in the shirt. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“...Cliff?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You wanna go downtown tomorrow?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sure.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff followed close behind Rick as they walked past the expensive looking storefronts. He casually smoked his cigarette, acknowledging was out of place. Rick in front of him in his expensive shoes, jacket, and pants with this scruffy old man in a dusty pair of jeans and a over-washed Hawaiian shirt following. It was obvious that the people they walked past thought he didn’t belong. He didn’t care. All he was there to do was drive Rick to shop for clothes and carry the bags back to the car. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But it turned out he wasn’t just the bellhop today. He was also seemingly a dress up doll. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Cliff, try these on!”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick was having a ball; handing Cliff this and that in every color and pattern imaginable. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Being very conservative in terms of fashion, Cliff was confused with the high-waisted pants and the tight fitting shirts, but wore them anyways to appease his boss. He looked like he was having fun, and Cliff wasn’t going to ruin it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“C’mon Cliff, lets go.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff stepped out of the fitting room in a nice looking patterned shirt and a pair of maroon pants to find Rick with a bag of clothes in hand. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He asks the girl at the register, absolutely doe-eyes for him, for a pair of scissors. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Without another word, he snips off every price tag on Cliff’s body, and tells him to put the clothes he came in into the bag. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff, once again following his boss around town, jogged up to stand side by side. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“So what’s this all about?” He asked. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Just wanted a change in scenery,” Rick answered. They were sat on the patio of a restaurant, Rick nursing a whiskey sour and Cliff a beer. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Psh, okay,” Cliff replied. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Only an hour after they’d left the shop, Rick was slightly regretting his purchase. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff looked fine; there was no doubt about that, but maybe it was a little too fine. He caught women and girls staring at him more than usual, and the waitress was getting a bit too friendly. Even after they left the restaurant, Cliff had girls and on one occasion a group of young boys smile and blush as the two of them walked the streets. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was embarrassing to say it, but Rick was starting to get a little jealous. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Anywhere else you wanna go?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Nah... take me home, Cliff.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Alright.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick stared through the front windshield as the radio played a familiar tune. He watched his stunt double drive from the corner of his eyes wondering if Cliff would notice him looking. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They both said little as they climbed the hill up to the private drive. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Taking the keys out of the car and tossing it to Rick, Cliff waited for him to unlock the door. Greeting his dog, obviously happy to see her owner back, Cliff was just about to feed her a treat when he felt his shirt being tugged at from behind. He turned back to be roughly shoved into the wall. Albeit confused, Cliff leaned into the kiss from his for some reason irritated boss. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“T-take these off, would ya?” Rick said, pulling the patterned shirt out of his pants. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I can do that.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff proceeded to pull the shirt off over his head as Rick slowly undid his pants. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re a bit pushy today,” Cliff noted. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick didn’t look up, but a Cliff could tell that his ears were getting red. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Didn’t like that all those p-people were flirtin’ with you today,” he muttered. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cliff, you look so fucking g-good in this Gucci shit, b-but...”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff smiled as he helped Rick pull down his own pants. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Were you jealous?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Maybe.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Stepping out of his new clothes now in a pile at his feet, Cliff pulled Rick back in for a kiss before tugging Rick out of his jacket. He backs him into the couch, grabbing his waist before undoing the button.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Is it fucked to say that I like that you’re jealous for me?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Back against the seat of the couch, Rick pretended to think for a moment before sayin, “...yes.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>With a proud grin, Cliff signaled Brandy to leave the room. Pushing his hips up to help Cliff trying to nudge his pants off, Rick reached up to wrap his arms behind Cliff’s neck. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Let’s fix up your shirt tomorrow. I really liked that one,” he said. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. First Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>It’s almost ten years since Rick filmed the episode of Lancer when he gets a role in a certain movie. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Not much had changed in Rick’s life since then; he was still acting, roles coming here and there, enough for him to keep his house, he still smoked, drank in slight excess, and Cliff still drove him around. What had changed was that he had gotten married six months from then, and then promptly divorced within another six months, and had had a near death experience that made him realize that he was in love with his best friend. In a lucky turn of events, Cliff had apparently felt the same way but for much longer than Rick ever knew.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff parked the Chrysler into the parking spot marked for Rick and both exited the car towards the studio. These days, Cliff had quit stunting and was now labeled as a stunt coordinator or just as often, Rick’s manager. Randy retired, allowing Rick to persuade him into referring Cliff in his place. “You don’t even gotta work with him anymore,” he had said. “And you know he’s a good stuntman.” With a begrudging sigh of agreement, Cliff had a new job. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>As they both stepped into the building, Rick was greeted by a young girl jogging towards him. She had pretty light brown hair and a tight smile. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hi, Rick,” she said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Uh, y-yeah, hey. D-do I know you, or...?” Rick asked, obviously confused. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The girl rolled her eyes. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I guess it has been ten years,” she said. “I’m Trudi. We’ve worked together before.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick made a face as he finally recognized the girl in front of him. Of course, she was that precocious little girl he’d met while filming for Lancer. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh, shit, right,” he exclaimed. “I didn’t even recognize you.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She’d grown into a very pretty young woman, no doubt. To think of it, Rick had seen her here and there on TV and movies. He just didn’t connect the dots. He also didn’t remember her name that clearly since she was so adamant on being called by her character’s name, but he didn’t mention that part to her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She turned to Cliff, sticking her hand out in greeting. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I think I remember you. You were always in the car with Rick.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“That’s me,” the blond man replied. “The name’s Cliff Booth.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Well nice to finally meet you.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You as well. I think Rick told me about you. Said he thought you were a midget by the way you carried yourself and talked.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff smiled as Rick laughed awkwardly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Turning back to Rick, she waves her script at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Anyways, you should go. Makeup was looking for you.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick nodded and followed Trudi’s concise directions to the trailer. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff stayed behind, watching until Rick disappeared behind a corner. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“And what are you doing?” Trudi asked. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m the stunt coordinator,” Cliff answered.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t think we have any scenes that require stunts today.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Then I’m Rick’s personal assistant.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trudi giggles. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You want any coffee?” She asks.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sure.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Coffees in hand, the odd couple sit at a table under the shade. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“So, you’ve been with Rick for ten years?” She asked. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Twenty, actually,” Cliff said. “Met while he was makin’ Bounty Law.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trudi’s eyes widened in surprise. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Wow,” she said. “That’s longer than I’ve been alive.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff chuckles and sips his coffee. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Damn I’m old.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“If it makes you feel any better, you both don’t look it.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Both?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah, you and Rick.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You seen Bounty Law before?” Cliff asked. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trudi shook her head. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You shoulda seen him back then,” he continued. “He hasn’t changed much.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Digging through his back pocket for his wallet, Cliff took it out and opened it. He then carefully pulled out a worn piece of paper to show her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She took it from his hand, flipping it over to find that it was a trading card from when the show was popular. She stared at the man in the photo labeled “Jake Cahill.” It was Rick all right, except he looked younger and handsome and charming. She returned the card to Cliff, who looked itching to have it back safely. She watched as he carefully slid it into his wallet before speaking again. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You know, I don’t know why I feel like I can say this to you, but I had a crush on Rick when I was a kid.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>You’re still a kid, Cliff thought. But he smiled in amusement at her sudden confession. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Really?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She was a little red in the ears but continued. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I-I mean don’t get me wrong, he was kind of gross, and it was weird that he cried in front of me, but I meant it when I told him that the scene I did with him was the best acting I’d ever seen.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“...yeah, Rick’ll do that to ya.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trudi looked deep into Cliff’s face as he said those words. Like something clicked, she continued talking. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Would it be weird to tell you that your boss was my first crush?” She asked. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff, figuring she was getting a vague idea at this point, shook his head. With a long pause, he took another sip of his black coffee and gave a little grin. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s alright,” he finally spoke. “He was mine too.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trudi looked at him, this time in confusion. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Really?” She asked. “Your first one?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Laughing, Cliff still nodded. Looking the slightest bit like she didn’t believe him, she stared at Cliff.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t know why I should even be telling you this, but since you told me your secret, I’ll trust you with mine.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She smiled. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sure. I won’t tell,” she said. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What’re you two gossiping about?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick walked over, now in full costume and makeup. He’s playing a strict father, and he’s got his hair back, face clean-shaven, and wearing glasses.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh nothing,” Trudi answers. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah, it’s nothing.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He raises an eyebrow in an accusatory fashion, but doesn’t pursue further. He sits beside Cliff and steals his coffee from his hand.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You look good today,” Cliff said, snatching his coffee back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Just today?” He mocked back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You know what I mean.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hands placed under her chin, Trudi just smiled at them from across the table with a knowing look on her face. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Racing One-on-One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>Placing a calloused hand over Rick’s wrist, Cliff felt his racing heartbeat. He smiled into the kiss; only their second time, prompting Rick to ask what the problem was. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“W-what’re you laughing at?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Mm? Well,” he said, tapping his finger against his wrist. “Your heart’s beating so fast.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh shut up.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick waved his hand away. Stepping back from Cliff’s reach, he folded his arms across his chest. He knew it was childish, but he couldn’t help but pout a little.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It ain’t fair.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff tilted his head in confusion. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re always s-so cool and calm and collected a-and... I’m here lookin’ like a damn fool,” he muttered. His hands were shaking. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>With a slight look of annoyance on his face, Cliff pulled him in by the arm. Rick flinched; he knew he probably annoyed Cliff. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But Cliff only hugged him close. Sliding his hand down from Rick’s arm, he held his hand. Then, slowly, Cliff brought both their hands up to let Rick place his palm over his chest. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“If it makes you feel any better,” he whispered, letting go of Rick’s hand. “You’re not the only one.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Pressing softly into Cliff’s t-shirt, Rick felt Cliff’s heart beating. Contrary to his calm expression, his pulse raced. Looking down at his fingers and then back up to Cliff’s face, he let the corners of his mouth relax into a smile. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff Booth was just as nervous as he was. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I feel like a real moron now,” Rick said, his palms still flat against Cliff’s rib cage. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh, c’mon now,” the blond man said, burying his nose into Rick’s nape. “And don’t you ever think you’re struggling on your own. I’ll always be there with you.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Nestling his head into Cliff’s shoulder, he nodded. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re a good man, Cliff.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I try.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Look at Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>“Cut!” The director yelled. “Rick, you alright?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’d flubbed his lines again. Three times in a row, and not even a difficult scene. But he wasn’t upset with himself. He knew he was distracted. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fuck, sorry Sam. Could I get a minute?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sure, we can shoot the next bit. Take twenty if you need to.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick got up and walked back towards his trailer. Cliff, who was watching from afar, slipped away to follow him quietly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You feeling okay?” Cliff asked, closing the door behind the both of them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I-I’m fine,” Rick said, trying not to look at his partner in the eyes. “Just... distracted.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Distracted?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick couldn’t bring himself to look at Cliff. He loved him; of course they both knew that. But the way Cliff looked at him felt almost unbearable. Those blue-green eyes cast a look that was so fucking filled with love and adoration. He was sitting not only in the physical spotlight on set, but he felt the presence of Cliff’s spotlight shining on himself as he couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him behind the camera. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey,” Cliff whispered, pulling him in close. “Look at me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Furling his brows, he hesitantly did so. God it almost felt embarrassing how good it felt to be looked at so lovingly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Don’t get so upset. You know those lines and I know you know ‘em.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick knew that too. But that wasn’t the problem. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I know.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I love you,” he said to his boss, slowly trailing his hands up his back and into the brown hair behind his ears. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I know that too. I can feel it,” Rick said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff chuckled and Rick felt it in his whole body. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Cliff,” he then asked. “How long have you been looking at me like that?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The blond man raised a brow in confusion. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What’re you talkin’ about?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“The way you were lookin’ at me on set,” he said. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>With a pause to think, Cliff hugged him even tighter. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t think I’ve ever changed the way I look at you,” he whispered. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ever?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Since I saw you, no.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick raced through his memories to try and think. Was it true? Did he just never notice? Had he only started to notice since he reciprocated these feeling back to him? God, it was hell thinking that Cliff could never love him back. Had Cliff felt the same for nine years?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“...I feel like an asshole.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff patted him softly on the back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey, if you don’t want me to watch, I’ll just hang out here.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“N-no, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Alright.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah,” Rick said. “I w-want you there.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Okay,” he replied with a grin. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick walked back onto set, this time keeping in the back of his mind that Cliff would be there. Every time they’d cut the camera, he looked at Cliff, halfway hidden in the shadows. He figured that if Cliff Booth would bother to acknowledge him, he’d do it back. It wouldn’t make up for anything by any means, but he’d at least be doing something. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He huffed a quick laugh as he caught Cliff blush and cover his face with his hand as they yelled cut on the last scene. He put a palm beneath his chin as he smiled at him. A taste of his own medicine, he thought.</p>
</div><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Keep Me Hangin’ On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everyone has a row once in a while.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>Cliff and Rick rarely fought. Maybe it was because they were so different and both noted and accepted that fact. Maybe it was because Cliff let a lot of things slide only when it came to Rick. Maybe it was both those things and more. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But they were also both stubborn. A fight could mean a stalemate situation lasting days. Car rides were silent and Cliff wouldn’t even bother to say good night before leaving for his shitty trailer home. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Their stubbornness always got in the way of being the bigger man. Their fights usually ended only when they missed each other too much. A soft touch on the hand gradually shifted to a caress, then finally to a whispered “I’m sorry,” almost every time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Like when they started to argue over opinions on a movie. Petty as it sounded, the argument got  heated enough for Rick to storm out of the living room and slam the door of his bedroom behind him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff slammed the front door behind him as he left the house soon after. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Their silence lasted for two whole days before Rick couldn’t handle it anymore. During a near silent drive home from the studio, Rick lowered their volume on the radio before tugging on Cliff’s shirt sleeve. From there on, it was textbook. He apologized, then Cliff followed. They laugh it off because they can afford to. They’ve been together long enough to know that they’re special cases. Why go through the effort of finding the perfect partner when their only compatible one is already right there?</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fights happen. It’s just how life goes. They’re two unique individuals. But at the end of the day, they just realize how much they enjoy each other’s company. Rick misses Cliff’s words of praise, his soft brushing touches each time they pass by in the house, and combing his hands through the dusty blond hair as they watched TV together. Cliff missed Rick asking him to do something for him, the soft, smooth skin of his thigh right beneath where his shorts ended, and the way he smelled when he’d bury his face into Rick’s neck. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It’s the little things that keep them going. </p>
</div><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Bad Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cliff has shitty dreams after Rick tells him he can’t afford him anymore.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>Cliff awakens with a jolt on his musty old mattress in his trailer. He takes a moment to figure out that he’s awake before wiping the stray tear that fell down his cheek with the back of his hand. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Heh,” he laughs as he looks down at his hand. It’s only slightly wet, but it catches the light from outside, emphasizing that yes, he woke up from a bad dream with tears in his eyes. He laughs at himself for being so fucking pathetic. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Nobody comes back from a war the same way as they left. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In Cliff’s case, he started dreaming more. Maybe it was the guilt he tried so hard to forget manifesting during the night when he had less control over his thoughts. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He dreamt of war. He relived stressful situations that had him wake up in the morning, cold with sweat. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But he hadn’t had dreams like this in years. Nine years, to be exact. He’s had shitty dreams, sure, but none that brought him leaping awake in the middle of the night. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Now, after all these years of relative calm nights of sleep, he was being roused by the stupid memory of Rick telling him that he couldn’t afford to keep him anymore. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Shit.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He got up a little too quickly, it seemed. The wound on his thigh made him wince. It’d been a couple of weeks since he’d gotten stabbed by those maniacs who broke in to Rick’s home. And only a month or so since their little conversation in Spain. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It’s only been a month; yet he keeps thinking about that day. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>“I think we’ve reached the end of the trail, Cliff.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Those words tormented him, apparently now even in his sleep. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Meeting Rick took his nightmares away, and the thought of losing him brought them back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The bitter taste of coffee fills his mouth somehow. He hates it. In an effort to clear his mind, he gets up to wash his face in the sink. The water from the reservoir he’s got the trailer attached to is lukewarm as it splashes onto his face. The clock in the kitchenette points to 3:36. The only light coming in from the windows is a flickering orange street lamp near the edge of the drive-in theater.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fuck the end of the trail. If he has to, Cliff would be willing to pave a fucking highway if it would let him have more time together with Rick. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But Rick was walking down another path with his new wife. A path that likely had better outcomes than the barren one he’d lead with Cliff. Maybe it was time to let go. Their trails just happened to merge all those years ago, and now it forks away again. It would be straining to the both of them to try and stitch it back together. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff pours himself a glass of liquor. Raising it up to the starless sky of Los Angeles, he muttered softly to a worried looking Brandy at his feet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Here’s to the end of the fucking trail.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Fight Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cliff &amp; Rick’s argument goes a bit too far. I feel like they’re the kind of people who fight and then forget about it quickly and just go back to normal as soon as possible.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>“What’re you gonna do? Try to let me go like you did in Spain?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fuck you, Cliff.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick stormed off into the bedroom, throwing only a spare blanket and pillow out on the floor before closing the door. Walking over to the door and leaning his head against it, Cliff sighed deeply. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Don’t matter,” the voice from behind the door said. “Don’t need any more bullshit today.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Defeated, Cliff picked up the blanket and pillow to sleep on the couch. It was only 9:30 pm, a little too early to fall asleep, but he turned the lights low and stared at the ceiling anyways. The ticking of the clock sounded louder than usual. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>With the cue of a soft mechanical click, Cliff opened his eyes to note the time. Midnight. He quietly got up from the couch, leaving the blanket in a heap. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick ignored the sound of the door opening. He assumed Cliff was just going to use the bathroom connected to the bedroom. But he then felt the bed sink behind him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Rick,” a voice from above called.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep. He tried his hardest not to flinch when Cliff curled up behind him. Cliff’s broad chest against his back, Rick continued to keep his eyes closed and his breathing even. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I know you’re awake,” Cliff whispered into his ear. A blow of air into his ear quickly proved his point. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Y-yeah, and w-what about it?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He kept himself facing the windows opposite of Cliff. He felt him nuzzle against his nape in response. Stubbornly, Rick still aimed his eyes at the wall. He knew he was in the wrong as much as Cliff, but didn’t feel like arguing. He figured he’d be upset, sleep it off, and pretend like everything was fine the next day. Cliff barging in like this was not in the equation. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“...thought I told you I don’t need no more bullshit.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff’s arms burrowed beneath his stomach to hug him closer. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ah,” he said. “You said you don’t need any more bullshit <em>today</em>. It’s 12:04. Therefore it’s the next day and I ain’t sleepin’ on the couch.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There’s a moment of silence, but then Rick can’t help but burst out laughing. He wiggles his way over to face Cliff for the first time in hours. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re a dumb fucker,” he told the slightly green tinted blue eyes staring at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m your dumb fucker,” Cliff replied.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Y-yeah you are.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He stretched his neck forwards to give Cliff a little peck on the top of his nose. He then pulled back, took a deep breath in, and shifted his eyes to look straight into Cliff’s. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I-I overreacted. I’m... I’m sorry, Cliff.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey,” Cliff said, the crooked smile growing on his lips. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said what I said either.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick pouted. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s n-not fine. You’re right. You’re always right. I’m the s-selfish one. I... fuck. I tried to let you go once already and it f-fuckin’ felt shit. I d-don’t want that again.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gently, Cliff touches his forehead against Rick’s. The California summer heat has the both of them a little bit sweaty, but neither of them mind. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I ain’t mean to bring that up like that.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I know.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They both know exactly what that look on each other’s face meant. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff smiles into the kiss, letting his hands wander down south. Just as his finger caught on the waistband of Rick’s pants, he was stopped in his tracks. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey,” Rick said with a mock-sternness in his voice. “What do you think you’re doin’?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“C’mon, you don’t have work tomorrow,” Cliff begged.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Is this what it’s gonna take for you to forgive me?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cliff took an exaggerated moment to think. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“...Yes?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick laughed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m still not stayin’ up later than 1:30.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try my best.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I might dig deeper into a couple of these, so lmk if any pique anyone’s fancy. as always check out my antics on the bird app @tarmacscene</p></blockquote></div></div>
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